


New Year's In

by JuliusSneezer



Series: Married Life: Gerita [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliusSneezer/pseuds/JuliusSneezer
Summary: Much to Germany's dismay, Italy wants to drag him out of the house to go to America's New Year's Eve party. Germany has no choice but to use his charm to get his husband to stay home.
Relationships: Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Married Life: Gerita [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586533
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	New Year's In

**Author's Note:**

> You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that after three years of marriage, Germany hasn't learned to treat Italy like a husband. You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that Germany is not addicted to touch. 
> 
> You can try, but these are truths.

Italy wrapped the scarf around his neck, making sure that the buttons to his peacoat were done all the way up to his throat. “Don’t want to catch a cold!” 

Germany stepped up next to him, also grabbing his coat. “You realize that’s a myth, right?” 

“Perhaps!” Italy gave a final tug of his scarf, looking up at Germany. “But there’s no harm in staying warm!” 

“I’ll grant you that.” Germany buttoned up his coat. He took a look around the house. “Did you get all the lights?”

Italy followed his gaze. Despite the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, Italy allowed Germany to keep up the Christmas tree. It was his favorite holiday, after all. At the beginning of their marriage, Italy had initially been annoyed with how long his husband wanted to keep the decorations up. But as the past few years went by, Italy could see the appeal of the warm lights brightening up the dark living room they were about to leave. “Yup!” 

“All of them?” Germany asked, checking his pocket for his keys and his wallet. 

Italy rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Yes, all of them.” 

“Even the closet?” 

“You were in the closet last!” Italy reminded him, knowing what Germany was doing. 

Germany shrugged slightly, shoving both hands in his pockets. “Perhaps I should go check.” 

Italy smiled. “It’s just a New Year’s Party. Quit stalling.” 

Germany sighed, but he reached forward and opened the door. He waved Italy out. “I know.” 

“I don’t get what the big deal is!” Italy said, stepping through the doorframe. 

“Hold on, hear me out.” Germany said. 

Italy stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. He felt the corners of his mouth lift as Germany frowned earnestly. If Germany had a version of puppy eyes, this was it. The slight frown, the pleading gaze.

Germany reached forward and grabbed Italy’s sleeve. “Listen: It’s not too late to, say, get sick. We could stay home! I could light a fire, we could make some coffee, I’ll even do all those ridiculous extra steps you like. The measuring, the bean grinding, everything. We could sit under a blanket and watch a movie, or read, or anything else! We could just stay home. Just this once.” 

A couple years ago, this proposal combined with the look in Germany’s eyes would have persuaded Italy. But he was a man that had grown accustomed to Germany’s little mannerisms and persuasions. He loved Germany dearly. But he also knew the man’s aversion to parties. “America was kind enough to invite us all to his New Year’s Party. All our friends will be there and we already said we will go."

Germany grunted, releasing Italy’s sleeve. “Why do I even try?” 

“Because you try that trick for every party.” Italy gestured Germany forward, out into the cold. “And besides! You moan and groan at home all the time, but then you go and you have fun. Right?” 

“Okay, I get it.” Germany said, though the corners of his mouth were turned up. He hid the smile as he turned to lock the door. “We’re going, and we’re going to have fun, and we’re going to like it… and you despise me and don’t want to spend any time with me.” 

Italy laughed, grabbing Germany’s arm as the two walked out to the car. “Oh, stop being a baby!” 

“You’re right. It’s my fault for marrying an extrovert.” 

“Oh, stop it. If you had it your way, we would spend every night in.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Germany asked, unlocking the doors. The two got in the car, Germany turning the key and hoping for the air to warm up. “Is it so bad that I want to spend time with you?” 

Italy shot Germany a firm, but not unkind look as he buckled his seatbelt. “Not going to work this time!”

Germany grunted and pulled out of the driveway, beginning the drive to America’s house. He glanced over at Italy. 

He was facing away slightly, glancing out the window and watching the snow fall. Ever since he had moved to Germany’s country, he had delighted at the smatterings of snow they would get. Even watching them fall seemed to be a pleasure to him. His hair fell to the nape of his neck. He was due for a trim. Germany was all for personal upkeep, but there was something so appealing about the way that Italy’s hair curled slightly when it was long enough to brush the nape of his neck. Italy’s breath steamed against the window as he leaned closer to watch the fat flakes fall. 

Germany grunted. Noticing these little things about Italy made it that much harder to drive to America’s. Or perhaps… “Feliciano?” 

“Hmm?” Italy hummed, not looking away from the window. 

“Is it just me, or is the snow falling faster?” 

Italy turned to Germany. “Ludwig, my love, I know you don’t want to go to the party. But-” 

“No, I’m serious. Look.” 

Italy peered out the window, his brow furrowing. “It looks like it.” 

“The snowflakes are getting bigger, too.” 

Italy faced Germany. “Is the weather getting too bad to drive?” 

“I don’t think so.” Germany checked to make sure that there was no-one behind them, then experimentally pressed down on the breaks. Though it had not been snowing much, they already slid against the pavement. Not enough to cause fright, but definitely enough to cause concern. “Hmm.” 

“We should go back.” Italy said. 

“Feli, you’ve wanted to go to this party for weeks. If I drive safely, we can make it.” Germany said. 

Italy shook his head. “It’s not worth our safety. America will understand! I’ll call him on our way back.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Italy pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, turning to face Germany. “ _Caro_ , it is unsafe to drive. Besides, a night in sounds good. We can celebrate New Year’s in our own home tonight.” 

Germany said nothing, but as he made a cautious turn around, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

As he found America in his contacts, Italy spotted the grin in his periphery. “Try not to be too disappointed.” 

Germany started the drive back to his house, turning up the music on the radio as they made their way back. 

They entered the house to a chorus of dogs barking. Germany let out a short, harsh whistle as he pulled off his coat.

Distantly, from Italy and Germany’s room, the two could hear the scratching of dog’s nails against the hardwood floor. The three dogs skidded around a corner, Berlitz unable to turn quick enough and slamming into the wall on the opposite side of the corner. Undismayed, he stood and continued the chase to his master. They crowded around the two, Germany kneeling down to pet his dogs. 

Italy stood, rubbing the head of Aster as he leaned his weight against Italy’s legs. Though Italy would claim otherwise, Aster was his favorite. He also dared to guess that Italy was Aster’s favorite, too. 

“Are you happy to see us home?” Germany asked, Blackie licking his cheek. Affectionately, Germany lightly pushed Blackie’s face away. “Good dogs! We’re staying home tonight!” 

Italy smiled down at his husband, giving Aster’s head a final pat as he toed off his shoes. “And he’s _so disappointed!_ ” 

“We went to that party last year.” Germany said, standing and untying his shoes. 

Italy pulled off his coat and stretched. “Well, we won’t know what we’re missing if we don’t go out for New Year’s, I suppose.” 

“Yes, because spending time with me is so difficult.” Germany teased, reaching forward and wrapping his arms around Italy’s waist. 

Italy turned, smiling. “Perhaps not.” 

“Mm.” Germany leaned forward and touched his lips to Italy’s. 

Italy kissed back, giving a slight hum before he pulled away. “You’re unusually affectionate!” 

“Just happy to be home, I suppose."

“Me too.” Italy tucked his head under Germany’s chin. “I’m going to go get my comfy clothes on.” 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Germany asked, resting his head on top of Italy’s. 

“Movie.” 

“Christmas movie?” Germany suggested. 

Italy sighed, smiling. “It’s New Year’s. Why do you want to watch Christmas movies?” 

“We don’t have to.” 

Italy hummed, pulling away. “No, it’s okay. After all, we agreed on New Year’s day being the end of Christmas celebrations. I’m sure we can squeeze one more Christmas movie or two until the time limit is up.” 

“Go get your comfy clothes on. I’ll set up the movie.” 

“Thanks.” Italy pulled away. “I’ll be right back!” 

Germany made his way to the living room, sitting on his couch and picking up the remote. He smiled to himself slightly. He considered the Christmas tree his husband allowed him to leave up for this long. He considered the fireplace that would soon be crackling with warm light. His left hand resting on Aster’s head and absently scratching behind his ears, he pulled up a Christmas movie. Perhaps it was the nostalgia getting to him, but he found himself pondering the first Christmas they spent together two years ago as he started a fire. The awkward process of figuring out how to integrate both Italian and German Christmas traditions. The discovery that Italy, while he liked Christmas, simply preferred to celebrate for a shorter amount of time, while Germany preferred to draw out the celebration.

But they had figured it out. They always have, whether for holidays or not. They navigated their relationship. They had their arguments, sure, but their marriage had come to a comfy, yet clumsy arrangement that Germany found himself settling into gladly. Whether it was Italy’s laziness or Germany’s timidity in expressing affection, the two had sorted through it. Now, Italy went out of his way to do things for Germany. Germany found it within himself to say loving words to his husband. To care for him in a more expressive way. The fire crackled to life, Germany settling back into the couch and waiting. 

“Feliciano?” He called out. 

“Coming!” Italy replied. 

Germany frowned. Did that come from the kitchen? He turned, grinning slightly as he spotted Italy in a knit sweater and comfy pants, holding two steaming mugs. “What is that?” 

“Hot chocolate.” Italy answered, rounding the couch and setting the mugs down on the table. 

“Coasters.” Germany reminded. 

Italy reached forward and grabbed two coasters, setting the mugs down on them. 

“Thank you. For the hot chocolate. And also for the coasters.” Germany said, grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch and unfolding it.

Italy hummed a response, sitting on the couch and leaning against Germany. “My pleasure.” 

Germany lay the blanket over the two of them, adjusting his position so he had his arm wrapped around Italy’s shoulders. “Comfy?” 

Italy hummed. 

Germany started the movie, sighing and sitting back. 

The two sat in silence, enjoying the movie and enjoying each other. 

Italy stirred, lifting his head and kissing the junction between Germany’s jaw and his neck. “Never mind, this is kind of perfect.” 

“Told you.” Germany pulled Italy closer. “We should make this a tradition.” 

“Now, I wouldn’t say that. We can’t ignore everyone else forever.” 

Germany hummed. "I suppose not."

Italy grinned into Germany’s side. 

Time passed slowly, the two turning on movie after movie, enjoying their time together. After a couple hours, the two turned off the television. Germany retrieved a book they were reading off the shelf. He propped his torso against the armrest of the couch, his legs swung up onto the cushions. Italy had his chest to Germany’s, his legs curled between Germany’s. Germany read the book in a low, muted tone, Italy occasionally shifting his position. 

Italy lifted his head. “It’s eleven thirty.” 

Germany glanced up at the clock. “So it is.” 

“Save your New Year’s kiss for me?” Italy asked, teasing. 

Germany looked at him, shaking his head. This was a tradition that started while the two were dating that lasted into their marriage. Around this time, Italy would always approach Germany and interrupt whichever conversation he was a part of to request that Germany save his New Year’s kiss for him. Germany had initially blushed heavily at the request and stammered out a response, not liking the attention the proposal drew from their friends. However, as time passed, he found it endearing. It was almost a ritual for them. 

“Of course.” Germany answered. 

Italy hummed, satisfied, returning his head to its place on Germany’s chest as Germany continued his reading. 

A half hour later, the two still lay chest-to-chest. They were staring at the face of Germany’s watch as the minute hand ticked by. They were in the last ten seconds. 

“Ten,” Italy began. Germany joined as they counted down the seconds. 

Three…

Two…

One…

Italy leaned forward and kissed his husband, his arms wrapping around Germany’s neck. 

Germany’s hands settled on Italy’s waist. 

The two drew apart, a few inches separating them. 

“Happy New Year, Ludwig.” 

“Happy New Year, Feliciano.”

**Author's Note:**

> My own gay yearning? In my fic? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> I was late to Christmas fics, but here's a fluff fix to start the new year!
> 
> ALSO: Domestic Gerita fics. Yes? No? This was so much fun to write, I may just make it a series!
> 
> Caro: Darling


End file.
